


The Art of the Possible

by romanticalgirl



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With love, all things are possible</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of the Possible

It took him ten minutes to knock on the door, and he barely noticed that his hands shook a little. They had been shaking quite a bit lately, whenever she was in the room, in sight, in hearing distance, thinking distance.  
They shook nightly as he thought about her, dreamed about her, thanked whatever Gods there were that Jess was gone and everyone was gone and he could act like a teenaged boy when he thought about her. Only he wasn't a teenager, so it lasted forever and every night got sweeter, more embellished and he'd make his way to the bathroom feeling like a romantic sap who needed to have a little more self control.

Then he'd get into bed and smile at the clock and fall asleep figuring out how many hours it might be until he saw her again.

"Knock," he reminded himself, smiling again, wondering vaguely if his father had been right and, if he kept doing it, his face was liable to freeze that way. He lifted his hand and rapped on the door, waiting patiently and impatiently in the few moments it took her to answer. She looked tired and frazzled and decidedly not like he expected as he glanced from her sloppy attire down to his jeans and sweater. "Hey…"

"Oh, God, Luke. I know. I look like…well, I don't want to know what I look like. We're almost done with the Inn and there's all these problems and I was checking one of the showers and there was this thing and then I was wet which wouldn't have been a problem except there was this other thing and…and…" She stopped and tilted her head, noticing him for the first time. "What are you doing here?"

"I knew it was Rory's first night at home, and I thought maybe I could take you guys to dinner."

"Dinner? I can do dinner. I can be ready in ten minutes. Give me ten minutes. And coffee. Coffee will help. And Rory. Rory's in her room. And she likes food. Food is good." Lorelai nodded, her eyes slightly wide and panicked. "Ten minutes."

He watched her as she ran up the stairs, pretending he was amused and bemused by the rush and the rambling, when really, all he wanted to do was follow her up and calm her nerves and lay her down and stroke her hair until she relaxed and slept and then drop a kiss on her forehead and stroke her arm and…

"Hi, Luke!"

"Rory." He smiled at her, probably looking a bit panicked himself. "Welcome home."

"Thanks. Where's Mom?"

"Upstairs. Getting ready. Or changing. I think. I'm actually not all that clear on what the chosen course of action was."

"She's been working hard."

"Yeah."

"I was going to go by there tonight and do a few things on her to-do list that are doable. By me. I'm kind of wired still, on that finals high or low or whatever it is. So, maybe you could tell her for me?"

"Sure."

"Thanks." She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. "What brings you out here? I mean, not at the diner?"

"Just wanted to…you know, check." He took a deep breath. "On your Mom."

"Oh." Rory nodded and smiled at him, her head tilting slightly before she slipped outside, a different kind of silence settling over the house. Luke got to his feet and moved around the living room then sat back on the couch, rubbing the arm of it idly with his fingers. The distant sound of water running was soothing and he closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what she'd be wearing as she came down the stairs and if she'd look at him and see him and if she'd walk over to the couch and sit beside him and touch his hand and then he could turn and touch her cheek and his hands would be shaking again and he'd look at her and she'd be looking at him and he'd swim in her eyes as he leaned in and…

The shower had been on for a long time.

Glancing around the room several times, Luke finally got to his feet and headed for the stairs. He walked slow and tentative, as if he hadn't repaired every board himself and might find himself sprawled painfully on top of splinters and who knows what else they kept under the stairs. Her door was partially closed and the bathroom door was open, steam spilling out of it. He glanced inside enough to see the room was unoccupied then switched off the water, trying to catch his breath in the heat.

There were several possibilities.

Muggers had broken in her window and had knocked her out and taken all her valuables while he and Rory had chatted downstairs and he needed to open her door and make sure she was all right. She had tripped, knocked herself out and was in desperate need of medical help so he needed to open her door and make sure she was all right. She was in the process of undressing and he was about to open her door and after the screaming died down, he was just going to stare at her until he'd drunk his fill and then he'd pass out and she'd have to do mouth to mouth or something and they'd be…

"Lorelai?" He pushed the door open and stopped, leaning against the jamb. She was stretched across her bed, feet still on the floor, a dress the color of the flowers he'd considered buying for her in her hands. She wiggled slightly, sinking further into the pile of covers that she was lying on and let out a soft, quiet moan.

Luke bit his lower lip to keep any sound from escaping and moved into the room, stopping in front of her. Her t-shirt was still damp, clinging to her skin though it had risen slightly and the smooth flesh just above her navel was exposed. He reached out, his fingers barely brushing her skin as he grasped the hem of the shirt and pulled it down, struggling to ignore the electric shock that jolted his body.

"Shoes," he whispered and bent down, grasping her left foot and sliding the tennis shoe off. The second gave just as easily and he ran a slow finger down the arch of her foot, assuring himself he was just testing to see if they were still wet or even damp even though her shoes had been dry. He lifted her feet, turning her slightly as he did, her whole body on the mattress.

"Ten minutes," she promised in a mutter under her breath, turning into him as he knelt down beside her. Her eyes were closed and her hair fell around her face and she looked dusty and dirty and damp and breathtaking. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the unmistakable scent of her then slid one arm underneath her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, lifting her close to him. Her hand fell on his chest and contracted in his sweater and he paused, reveling in the feel of the moment before carefully setting her back on the bed, pulling the covers over her.

"Sleep," he assured her, pushing the hair back off her forehead and dropping the hint of a kiss on her forehead. "I can feed you later."

Her hand caught his sweater again and she smiled in her sleep. "…Luke."

He backed out of the room, unable to keep from smiling.

His hands were no longer shaking.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 5-20-04


End file.
